


i will feel so glad to go

by asterisms



Series: afterlife [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:52:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3676362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterisms/pseuds/asterisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is Desmond Miles and Desmond Miles is dead.</p><p>Everything is surprisingly okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will feel so glad to go

_Desmond_

 

The world shifts into being and he feels empty.

The pain he has carried with him for so long is gone and his limbs are unburdened as they sink into the surface beneath him. There are no voices screaming at him as they tear at the edges of his mind. There are no shadows waiting behind his eyes or before them, bright and terrible as they remind him of all of the ways he is broken.

For the first time is what feels like an eternity, he knows he is real.

 

_Desmond, can you hear me?_

 

He waits for the pain and the panic. For his breath to stop and his mind to shatter into a mosaic of lives he has never lived but still knows and worlds he has never seen but calls home. His mind is clear now, but he knows what is coming. No matter how strongly he clings to the present or reaches for the future, the past is never far behind. It comes and death follows. Always.

He knows it is inevitable.

But as he waits, he cannot remember why he is here. He knows many things, but he does not know where he is, and he does not know why.

 

_Desmond, open your eyes._

 

He can feel it calling to him.

It pulls at him, but it is gentle and he is tired, so he does not fight.

 

_Wake up. Desmond._

 

He knows this voice. It is familiar, and as he feels it settle within the marrow of his bones, he understands.

 

_Desmond._

 

He opens his eyes and he remembers.

He is Desmond Miles and Desmond Miles is dead.

The thought is not as upsetting as one would expect. He's angry, so angry that he thinks he might fall to pieces where he lies, but he knows the truth now. He is ancient. He is dead. He was twenty-five years old when his heart stopped beating.

He wants to fade away but the voice is back, and with it is a body he knows as well as his own. Perhaps even better. He reaches up to grasp at the offered hand and pulls himself to his feet. Standing before him is Ezio Auditore, and he cannot bring himself to feel surprised.

“Hello, old friend,” the man says. He is smiling as he holds onto Desmond’s arm, refusing to let go even as Desmond tries and fails to step away, not uncomfortable but unaccustomed to the easy way the other man fits into his space. “It has been too long.” Desmond laughs. The sound shatters into the air around them, a kaleidoscope of joy and sorrow that he cannot hope to put into words.

“Some would say it hasn't been long enough,” he says.

“Ah, but you have been living. I have not had that luxury.” Desmond frowns and Ezio shakes his head, as if dispelling any negative thoughts, and gestures to the space around them. “I should not complain so much,” he says. “There are worse places to spend an eternity, and the company is not bad.”

“Company?” Desmond says as he follows Ezio, the other man’s grip on his arm still strong and unyielding.

“You sound surprised,” Ezio says as he laughs, and his eyes are bright with either laughter or tears. Desmond can't tell.

“Sorry,” he says. “This is kind of the first time I've ever died, so it’s all pretty new to me.” He takes a startled breath when they reach the crest of the hill Ezio has been leading him up. Stretched out before them is a sparkling city that is visibly teeming with life. “So when you said company,” he trails off.

“Yes. I meant everyone.”

“Oh.” Desmond rubs a hand across the back of his neck and sighs. He isn't sure if he's ready to see everyone, but he supposes he has no other choice. Ezio laughs again, filling the silence that follows, as if trying to make up for all of the times life has stolen any hint of joy and left nothing but seething hate and righteous fury in its wake.

“As I said before, it is not so bad here.” Desmond nods at Ezio’s reassurance and takes a fortifying breath before starting toward the city, pulling the other man along. Once they enter the city, Desmond freezes. The street is crowded with figures that are as familiar as they are diverse, but three stand out. Altair and Connor gaze steadily back at him as he observes them, but it’s the third who truly catches and holds his attention. He can’t bring himself to move forward, and the distance that stretches between them feels eternal, heavy and solid as it curls beneath his skin and eats at his heart.

The world is frozen around them. He wants to run away. He wants to run to them and never leave. He doesn't know what he wants, but he knows what he needs to do. He thinks he’s always known. So, with drumbeats echoing in his throat, he takes the first step. He meets Lucy’s eyes and he can see the same desperation in her gaze that he’s been feeling for centuries now. He’s crossed half of the distance before he breaks into a run, and she laughs and rushes to meet him.

They cling to each other, and Desmond trembles in her hold as he finally allows himself to relax against her. She carries his weight gladly.

“Lucy,” he says, her name falling off his lips like a prayer. She pulls away from their embrace to frame his face in her hands, and he wants nothing more than to bask in the light her smile offers. 

“Desmond.” It sounds like an answer. He doesn't cry but he thinks he could, so he presses his forehead against hers and focuses on trying to breathe. “It’s okay,” she says. “You’re okay.”

“I’m dead,” he says as she pulls him impossibly closer. “I’m not sure how that’s okay.”

“Desmond.”

“I killed you.” She grabs his hand and lifts it to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss his palm. “God, Lucy,” he gasps out, watching as she continues trailing kisses along his skin. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn't you,” she says. “Juno was controlling you. It’s not your fault.” She sighs and leans up to kiss his forehead when he doesn't meet her gaze. “I forgive you.” Desmond lets out a shuddering breath and some of the lingering pain falls away. He knows they aren't done talking about it, about everything that happened before and after her death, but for now, it’s enough.

 

 

 


End file.
